Baggage

Well, there is no mistaking it; I've got a lot of baggage.  Literally... As I look around the apartment at the three empty suitcases that I'll inevitably fill, I am suddenly overwhelmed.

Getting ready to go on a trip for an undetermined length of time is a somewhat daunting process.  Do I pack work clothes? Bedding? Winter boots, jackets and scarves?  Do I pack light and have some things shipped if I stay longer?? Oy...

Meanwhile, my poor little dogs are hovering around the luggage and pacing the apartment.  As soon as I pull out the suitcases, they look at them wide eyed and nervous: not this again.

I won't be able to take my dogs with me yet.  It would make the settling in process about a hundred times more difficult.  And if I can spare them the added anxiety of roommates, city traffic, and late nights, then there is no question that I ought to leave them behind... for now.

It's crazy.

I look around and see a patchwork quilt of my life, post graduation.  I feel lucky to have experienced so much over the past eleven years since high school.  What a wild ride.  From the West Coast to the  great Southwest, then down to the Mid South and up to the Midwest; my life looks more like a stack of postcards rather than the images I see in most of my peers' family albums.  But that's just me.  That is the nature of change and adapting to whatever circumstance I seem to be in the midst of. It's an amazing thing, to have had the good fortune of living life in so many wondrous places.

But the baggage I accumulated over the years is bulky, heavy and perhaps excessive. There are some things I am holding on to that may not serve me on the road ahead.  Like my wedding china for instance; someone please tell me what I am supposed to do with that??  The delicate place settings, serving bowls and coffee cups have lasted much longer than my marriage ever did.  And I carry the box around from state to state with precision and care... And I am over it.

Sometimes I imagine taking a trip to Greece, where upon arrival, I unwrap the delicate wedding china and hurl it at the pristine white floor and let it smash at my feet while shouting OPA!!! In this fantasy, I am dancing around the shattered pieces, wearing a crown of olive leaves and a sleek white dress similar to Aphrodite's.

Hummus anyone?

And what about the other items I have hauled around from place to place: pictures, dresses and books of poetry? Shall I stand at the mouth of the East River and toss it in as some sacrificial offering to Manhattan... to my future?? 

Or shall I continue to leave it happily collecting dust in my storage, as I have done for the past few years? The boxes are stacked high; one on top of the other... Talk about excess baggage.

I know that the day will surely come when I will know what to do.  I can sense that I am inching my way closer to the answer with each passing season.  I don't want this much baggage.

I don't need it either.

But the answer hasn't come to me yet.  But I have a hunch that it is waiting for me in this next place I explore: probably under a shady tree, speckled with October's rose and amber hues in the midst of Central Park. Perhaps then I will know what to do and how to shed these bulky items that are no longer serving me. Alas, I continue to pack.

*Note to self: have fun, work hard, be safe and travel light! 

Today:

Cape Cod

1 oz Vodka
2 oz Cranberry Juice
Garnish with a lime wedge
On the Rocks!

Divided We Stand

I must say, last night's presidential address from the White House couldn't have come at a worse time.  And from what I gathered from his speech, it would seem as though that is the overwhelming consensus of our nation.  On the eve of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks that occurred over a decade ago, killing so many Americans, I couldn't help but sit and watch the address and cringe at the thought of yet another war.  

No matter which side of the debate you stand, you can't help but feel the weight of the September 2001 attacks.  It is as if the ashes and dust from the fallen two towers still waft and linger in the air: it just hasn't settled yet.  

For a moment, I almost imagined that I was seemingly the only one still greatly affected by that horrifying day.  How naive. 

I walked into a small market yesterday afternoon and overheard a few employees gathered around the register reminiscing the day that our country changed forever.  As is almost a cliche anymore, they asked one another a very common question;"Where were you?"  They each had a different story, but each person remembered that morning with absolute precision and clarity.  

And I couldn't help but remember too.  

I think what is so unfortunate all these years later, aside from the glaringly obvious loss of so many human beings no matter their nationality, is that we cannot seem to move past the climate of terror at home and abroad.  

I remember the thousands of posters and flags that were proudly displayed almost instantaneously after 9/11 and how so many boasted a common slogan of patriotism: 'United We Stand'. 

How far from that sentiment we are today.  We are a nation fiercely divided.  And as much as we bicker amongst ourselves and split hairs over the future of our country, it seems more apparent than ever before that we are at war, with each other.  

I really don't like to dwell on the negative.  In fact, most of the time I am hard pressed against taking jabs at the "other side."  I'm just not a fan of political satire, because at the heart of almost everything comical in life, is a deeply rooted undercurrent of heartbreak and disjointed, opposing ideals.  Kind of like a comedian who pokes fun at the most depressing aspects of humanity.  We are divided.  

And I am not sure how to begin working to close that divide.  I may not agree with everything that is happening in our country, but who is??? Can everyone be satisfied? When has it ever been possible to make everyone happy?? 

Perhaps the only thing we can agree on, is that we aren't over what happened on this day in Manhattan, twelve years ago. I do not want to go backwards.  That is the honest truth. 

I know it may be wishful thinking, but I certainly do not want our country to enter into yet another war.  At the same time, I am horrified at the thought of what other human beings are enduring abroad.  

I don't have the answers, and I will not pretend to fully understand the various negative implications on either side of the debate, or for that matter, even the positive ones.  

But I do understand enough about the art of war to know that a divided front is much easier to manipulate and attack than a united one.  We are not standing together.  At least we can agree on that.  

It is as though we are in the greatest identity crisis of our time.  Who are 'Americans' anymore?? What do we stand for? How brave are we? Is corrupt intent of greed operating under a mask of 'bravery'?  Are we the world's policemen?  Do we want that job? 

We cannot seem to agree on any of those answers.  And yet, we must continue to live our lives.  We may have just so happened to have been born a U.S. citizen... But is citizenship born or made?  Both perhaps?? 

I'm sad today.  

I'm sad because I feel at odds politically with some of the people I love and admire the most; my friends and family.  Is that what makes our country weak or unique?  Hmmm, I just don't know anymore. 

I am slow to want to define myself on this issue because I do not see a clear picture on either side.  I do not see positive or constructive resolve either way the political wind is blowing.  

I just see my friends and fellow citizens at odds.  And all I can be sure of is that we are very far from where I hoped we would be.  

Today, I just hope that while we "Never Forget" what happened, or what could happen, I hope we also never forget how fortunate we are to simply be alive.  No matter what country you call home.  No matter where you live, what you do, who you imagine yourself to be; if your stomach is full today and you are able to mindlessly enjoy the warmth of a cup of coffee, well then we can agree that life is pretty good. 

Let's please, practice compassion and an act of kindness on this day, so that we may stand united, if only from that shared sentiment and action.  

Today:

Red, White, Blue

1/2 oz Grenadine

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps or Vodka

1/2 oz Blue Curacao

Layered in a shot glass! 

Salute and shoot! 

The Compassion Complex

It is so strange; sitting here today in the comfort of a quiet home and an otherwise simple life.  My worries, relatively speaking, are quite small and insignificant.  I look around, and I see abundance.  When I read the news, I see despair.

It is difficult to express the impact those images have on my heart.  The pain I feel for those in need, who are suffering and fighting to survive, cannot adequately be surmised.  But I can assure you, it is a heartbreak unlike any other.

The long lines of refugees wandering through the harsh desert in search of some shelter and safety is an image that I awoke to this morning.  They walk along, carrying very few belongings.  Most women hold the hands of their small children who are sprayed and whipped by the blowing sands.  How can I not weep at the sight?

They are homeless.  They are terrified.  They are human beings.  And I am never so ignorant to think for one second that their fate couldn't someday be ours too.

'Us' and 'them.'  'They' and 'we.'  'You' and 'I.'  I beg for all of us to foster acceptance and compassion. We are only separated by geography.  We have different cultures of course, and perhaps we pray much differently from one another.  But your faith is not much different than mine; when it is the only thing getting you through the otherwise sleepless night. 

I never really know what I will write about each day.  It isn't something overly planned or thought out.  But no matter what it happens to be about from day to day, there is some common thread; they are some basic daily offerings of who I am and how I perceive the world around me.

I love life.  Even on the worst days, I genuinely love and appreciate my life.  And even on the worst days, I appreciate yours too.

Sometimes I fear that I am losing that sensitivity.  The world is home to the corrupt as well as the compassionate.  And while it would be nice to hear of all the wonderful acts of generosity and kindness that are surely operating in various parts of the world on a daily basis, I wonder if it would make a difference?

The horrific acts of terror abroad, as well as the grotesque violence in our own country, all have a way of overshadowing the most heroic of efforts.  While we [Americans] may judge the chaos of warfare abroad, I wonder how it is that our own country can be so overly wrought with senseless acts of violence, rape and murder.  And for what?? What cause, other than some twisted pleasure or selfishness could these mongrels have? I've said it before and I will say it again: hate begets hate.  But violence doesn't necessarily have to beget violence.  There is always a choice.  

We are indeed a nation of plenty, and with that, it seems that there are some barriers as to how we relate to one another; whether in a foreign land, or the neighboring state.

Thank God, I don't understand the nature of killing.  I don't understand how more killing, could improve any situation.  But perhaps that is why I am not at the table making those types of decisions.

But it doesn't mean that I have to be immune to it either.

I'm sure by tomorrow, I shall resume my otherwise comical, insightful, quirky hopes and diatribes about my own daily pursuit of all that I desire for my time here on earth.  Wait a second... this is still an essay serving that aim. 

Compassion serves the dream.  

If I ever wake up one day and find myself too numb to shed a tear at the sight of mass graves in a foreign country, then I will be truly ashamed.  To feel sorrow, only if it is happening directly to ourselves, is a tragic loss of empathy and compassion.

It is important to strike a balance in life; think of it as the Compassion Complex.  You cannot get so affected that you stop living your life.  But immunity and numbness are not compassionate either. To those who are suffering: I am not immune to your pain.  I am so sorry for all that you are faced with today.

I recognize that this life is a gift and with that comes an obligation to honor it; getting up each day and living life to the fullest in the face of despair. That is what I will continue to do.  Press on.  The fact that I have been so blessed to only write about what I see, and not actually be stranded in the desert, means that I owe it to the very breath of life to keep on believing, dreaming and living each day with gratitude and courage.

And one day, perhaps in some unexpected way, I too could have changed the world for the better.  To have shed compassion and hope: I couldn't ask for much greater purpose than that.


Today:

White Russian

1 oz Vodka
1/2 oz Kahlua
Splash of Cream
On the Rocks

   

Mama Said, Mama Said

You ever have one of those days?  You know, the kind of day where everything that could go possibly go wrong, does?  Of course, I say 'everything' as a somewhat relative term, but you get my drift.  But it just doesn't happen very often that I find it necessary to write a play by play of my eight hour shift behind the bar.  However, in the case of last night, trust me: it is.

Wednesday: 3:00 PM 

I arrived at work and began the tedious process of opening the up the bar: filling the ice bins, wiping down the counters, stocking the liquor bottles, and counting the cash drawer.  You know, business as usual. 

Having been assigned to the tiki bar, I was mentally and physically preparing for a steady stream of guests and hopefully, a profitable night.  But something was in the air yesterday... literally, that shook the very foundation of my otherwise positive outlook.  It was windy: extremely windy.  Ladies and Gentlemen, this is not an exaggeration.

Allow me to paint a picture for you.  A tiki hut/bar is typically comprised of four standing posts and is open to the elements on all sides.  Three of the four sides are lined with barstools, while the back side provides an exit strategy for yours truly.  There is a roof, room for a couple kegs, and a small liquor well.  And in the middle of this little island of booze, stands the bartender, ready to serve and protect.

Okay, so you can see it right?  Before the bar is opened, there are four heavy canvas drapes that protect the otherwise exposed counter to ceiling areas of the hut.  When they are down, and it is windy, they tend to catch the breeze so perfectly, you'd swear they were at full mast, about to set sail.  

I typically do not raise the drapes until I am officially open: so as to discourage guests from walking up every five minutes before I am fully equipped to serve and take payments.  

Here begins the chaos... 

As I was counting the drawer, I was suddenly sprayed with ice cold beer.  What in the...??????? Oh no!!!! I turned around to discover a rather shocking scenario. The ropes from the drapes had somehow blown ever so perfectly toward the taps, wrapping themselves around the handle and releasing the draft to rush out.  And to make it worse, the wind blew the beer all over the counters, floor, and yes... me.  I struggled to untangle the ropes as quickly as possible.  But needless to say, it was a sticky situation and a rather peculiar start to the day. 

Approximately 4:10 PM

At almost exactly the same moment I had finished cleaning up the great draft spill of 2013, I heard a coworker shriek, "AAAAH SHIT!"  And shitty it was, all over the soles of her shoes.  Where did that come from??? Apparently, someone had decided to let their dog wander freely around the place unbeknown to us all.  And to add insult to injury, the owner did not clean up after his furry friend. 

Obviously, this was way out of the scope of our job description.  But when the shit hits the fan, or the soles of your shoes, you must do everything within your power to carry on.  And that we did... 

Here goes round two of our major cleanup effort: bringing out the hose, buckets, brooms etc.  Can we just get back to serving some drinks already???

P.S. IT WAS STILL EXTREMELY WINDY

It was 5:00 Somewhere... Which means one thing: business.

Incoming!!! With the bar top filling up fast, I was busy enough to lose track of time (which is a good thing).  And freakishly, over the following three hours, my computer froze, a guest walked out on his tab, and a small woodland creature emerged from the nearby tree, scurrying around the feet of a frenzied crowd, causing absolute and utter chaos as ladies sloshed their drinks high in the air in complete disarray.  

It's a mouse! No, it's a small squirrel!! No it's not! It's a vole!!!!!!!!!  Let's get it!!!!!! 

Everyone was frantic.  As I stood within the confines of my four post cell, I looked around at the chaotic scene that was completely out of my control, and I began to shake my head and laugh.  A few guys who'd been enjoying their night out, caught a glance of me laughing to myself as I continued to work steadily through the chaos,  and they erupted in laughter as well.  

They were amongst the first guests to arrive that afternoon, so they had already witnessed the dog debacle and a few other hiccups of the night.  

And honestly, at that point, it was (kind of) funny. Oh and yes, it was still windy. 

What was happening??!!??

At approximately 8:00 PM,  it was too much. 

Everyone sitting at my bar turned in unison to witness a woman screaming at her cocktail server to "Get the hell away."  The server, defending herself, refused service at that point, and had to simply walk away.  

And then, after being asked out by a guest, literally ten times, I too, had to take a break.  I'd had enough.  Maybe it was closer to 9 at that point, but regardless, I had met my limit. A fellow bartender was kind enough to take the wheel from me so that I could discreetly slink away and hide... and hopefully, recover.  

I sat in the back alley for about five minutes, where no one could see me.  And when I looked up and saw my own reflection in the window, to my horror, I saw that almost all the strands of my hair were standing straight up on all sides of my face: the result of standing in a wind tunnel for the past five hours. 

Whatever... At this point, looking like a damn clown was more than appropriate. 

I walked reluctantly back to the bar to hear, "Adriane!!!!!! Yo, Adriane!!!!!! We were waiting for you!!!" Oh goody.... they are still here.

And that is when the lightning began to strike.  Huge bolts flashed, illuminating the night sky.  The wind howled, thunder cracked and I knew at any moment, it was about to break loose. 

And it did. 

The rain sprayed my face as it fell, gusting along with the relentless force of the wind.  And all I could think of was that song from the fifties... You know it... "Mama said there'd be days like this, there'd be days like this, my mama said. Mama said, mama said..."

After all of that, I left work wearing a half smile and a crazy ass 'fro atop my blonde head.  I didn't really see it as a bad day to be honest.  It was just one of those days you never forget.  

Tested by the elements, exhausted and dampened from the downpour, I clocked out and called it a night. 

I have no idea what was in the air.  All I know is that when it rains, it pours... and if God has a sense of humor, well then I had experienced a truly biblical comedic sketch. 

It's a brand new day.  I survived the storm, the unidentified woodland creature, the draft spill, the meanies, as well as a handful of overly friendly gents.  It was an epic night behind bars.  And I just felt that it was noteworthy enough to report.  

I think it's important to remember that nothing in life is promised to us.  The weather can't always be sunny and still.  The people we encounter may not follow the rules, get the hint, or clean up after their dog.  But one thing we can be sure of is that Mama said there would be days like this, and all we can do, is all we can do.  

And if gets to be too much and it's just not funny anymore, take a minute to walk away and look at your own reflection.  What you see may surprise you: even, make you laugh. 

Today:

Nameless Deliciousness

1 oz Cherry Vodka

Splash of Pama Liqueur

Finish with Lemonade.

MAMA SAID: WATCH THIS HILARIOUS VIDEO AND SING ALONG!!!!!

Knee Jerks

When a little child gets upset, you'd better be ready for it. The temper tantrums of toddlers can be epic. They will scream, sob and throw themselves to the ground in what appears to be nothing short of agony.  I have witnessed this firsthand while perusing through the aisles of the grocery store.  But what is even worse than a two year old throwing a temper tantrum? It is when a seemingly mature adult reacts without thinking.  This phenomenon is called a "Knee-jerk reaction."

You've all had a physical right? It's that dreaded routine check-up where the doctor gives you a thorough once-over.  My least favorite moment, aside from every other moment in between, is when he thumps your knee at just the right angle with that miniature sized hammer, prompting an involuntary muscle movement (i.e. a knee-jerk reaction).

Much like how our physical bodies react without thinking, so too can our emotions. This can be a very dangerous thing. All sorts of horrific occurrences in life can often be traced back to the moment a person, or even whole groups of people react. But we all know this much is true as well, that what goes up must come down, and that for every action, there is a reaction.  It is a ripple effect... and sometimes, a tidal wave.

Yesterday proved to be an interesting day for my brother.  The day began like any other, relaxed and contemplative over a cup of coffee. He was scrolling through the various daily news articles online when he received an email from a former business colleague.  In short, the email alerted my brother to several slandering social media posts that a certain person was writing all over various communities of cyber-space.  It was extremely unnerving.

The individual was accusing him of not paying for a service rendered, that he had in fact paid for. It was an aggressive attack on his reputation in this very small town.  The person not only wrote on their own social media walls about what a bleep bleeping bleep they thought he was, but they also went to his former place of business and left really accusatory comments there as well.

He was furious.  He went to the individual's place of employment and spoke with the owner of the business. When they were discussing what had happened, it was actually the person who was slandering my brother  who entered the payment information incorrectly to begin with!  I highly doubt the person will admit to that error on all the many public forums where so many negative posts were made. It is unfortunate.

And yet, what is fortunate is to behave with a certain measure of respectability.  Thankfully, my brother is not the type of guy who sets out on vengeful quests or gives in to knee-Jerks.  That would be even worse.  One misunderstanding can lead to five and then to fifteen.  Before you know it, that little ripple in the pond now has the force of a thousand waves behind it, destroying everything that was built on seemingly safe shores.

We are all guilty of being a bit of a knee-jerk from time to time.  I have certainly had my fair share of flip-outs, freak-outs and knee-jerks. No one is perfect. But how we handle the aftermath, the clean-up of these destructive waves, can be what makes the difference in our communities. Can we admit when we were wrong? Can we admit we acted poorly when we felt wronged? Are we able to slow down and think before we act? Or are we content to be a bunch of volatile time-bombs, reacting on a hair-pin trigger?

My hope is that we all try to get along.  Or in the very least, throw a life line to those who got swept away by the surging effects of the storm.  In the millisecond before you react, try to remember your true nature, our imperfect nature, and act like a good human being.

Today:

Lifesaver Cocktail

1oz Midori Melon Liquor 
1oz Bacardi Lt. Rum
Splash of Pineapple juice
Stir and strain 
Can be served up or on the rocks.